Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Priya Anand


The cup slips off the table
And shatters into pieces
As if done with its duty of
Containment and measure
It strikes the floor with a resounding crack
As if to proclaim its demise to all present and within hearing distance
Splinters beyond repair with razor edged shards that
Would shred flesh to draw blood
Stained fingers retreat as
Drops pattern the tiles in a linear arrangement
As if order in injury were a necessity


Priya Anand is Bangalore based and has various avatars of an occasional writer of short fiction and poems, an avid trekker and traveller, and a freelance development consultant who works with the non-profit sector when she needs to make a bit of money to support her varied interests. Some of her work has been published in Spark, Bangalore Review and Bangalore Mag, The Brown Boat (Raedleaf Poetry India) and The Reading Hour.



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